FicWad

Title: The Morning After
Author: seldra
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine. House belongs to David Shore & FOX.
Summary: House wakes up with a hangover. And Chase.
Notes: This is how "Half-Wit" ended in the author's mind. ;)




House was aware of two things. The first was that his leg was in agony because he’d overslept and missed his morning dose of vicodin. The second was that his head hurt. It really hurt. It felt like knives were being driven through his skull.

Groaning, he reached blindly for the nightstand and his vicodin. His hand hit something else. There was a person in bed with him. A warm, soft, naked person.

Fuck. Just how drunk did I get last night?

He tried to remember and couldn’t conjure up a whole lot beyond going to the bar. He couldn’t remember anything at all about coming home.

With extreme reluctance he cracked one eye open.

His heart leapt into his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his head back into the pillows.

It didn’t work.

When he opened his eyes again Chase was still there.

Chase was in bed with him.

He was half-curled on his side, snuggling one of House’s pillows. He was also entirely naked, partly wrapped in one of the sheets, but not partly enough.

House scratched at the thick stubble of a beard forming on his chin.

/Fuck/, was the most articulate thought his brain – which felt like it had been scrambled and smattered all over the insides of his skull – could come up with.

How the hell did this happen?

At that moment, of course, Chase began to stir. The blond groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. He must have as bad a hangover as I do. House watched with wry amusement as Chase slowly came around, blinking and frowning when he realized he wasn’t in his own bed.

Then he saw House. And jumped, scrambling for the covers. He nearly fell right off the bed in his panic. Blue eyes looked like they were going to fall out of their sockets. House couldn’t suppress his smirk of amusement.

“Wh – what?”

Both men winced at the volume and a second later Chase’s voice had dropped to a near whisper. “What happened…uh…”

House watched the wide eyes flicker nervously around the bed, processing the fact that they were both naked, the sheets were sticky, and House could see bright red scratches and bite marks standing out sharply against the blond’s pale skin. He wondered if he was sporting any of his own.

He glanced at the clock. It was past noon. He wondered if he could get away with just lying down and going back to sleep. He glanced at Chase. The young doctor was gaping at him with a comical look of confusion, disbelief and horror. Sort of like he was expecting an alien to peel itself out of House’s flesh at any second.

“We had sex. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure that out,” House said.

“Uh…” Chase blinked. It seemed his brain was having an exceptionally difficult time processing this information.

House really wanted a cigarette, but he didn’t see any packages within easy reaching distance – and there was no way he was hobbling all over the damn apartment looking for one with this headache.

“You remember anything?” he asked, grumbling and lying back down, ignoring Chase’s obvious discomfort.

“N...oh. /Oh./”

House raised his head slightly to study him. The boy was mortified, clearly. He turned completely red and raised his hands to cover his face.

“Oh…God,” was all he said.

“That good, huh?”

Chase merely groaned – or whimpered – into his hands.

“Hm.”

“…and then….with the cane. Oh God.”

House raised one eyebrow. Hopefully he would start remembering some of this.

Chase finally lowered his hands to glare at the older man sourly. “/You son of a /—”

“/What?/ You probably seduced me – you naughty minx!”

This made Chase blush again. “But – ”

“It couldn’t have been me. I don’t even like you,” House pointed out matter-of-factly.

Chase, he decided, had a very sexy pout when he was hurt. “You obviously slept with me,” he said.

“Like I said – seduction of the innocent! Oh, you and your feminine wiles.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Chase said quietly.

“If I had a penny for every time I woke up with someone who said that…”




Several hours earlier House had stood outside the pub where his three fellows were having a drink, no doubt commiserating about how horrible their boss was and how terrible his plan to fake brain cancer had been. How immoral! How dastardly! How just like House!

It was snowing outside.

Wilson had said he didn’t reach out to people. That was like a dare, wasn’t it?

When he reached their table the conversation died instantly. Cameron looked up at him with surprise, and then frowned, remembering what he had put them all through. All the worry for nothing. All the tears. All the work. Her fake kiss. And all in the name of cheating some researchers out of a new drug.

She got up and left in silent disgust. Foreman shrugged and followed her. Chase was left behind.

House sat at the table across from Chase, fixing the blond with his scrutinizing glare. Chase looked like he wanted nothing more than to run away, but he was too polite. He stayed where he was. Awkwardly. Neither man said anything.

Finally House sighed and slumped in the chair. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

Chase still didn’t say anything, but he nodded. He nodded jerkily, like a robot. Or more likely, like he was waiting for the insults and barbs. House would have been happy to comply, but reaching out to people (or was it letting people in? Whatever.) probably didn’t include making them cry. So he wracked his brain for small talk.

God, he hated small talk. What was he supposed to say?

“It’s cold outside.”

Chase replied with the same uneasy nod.

Fortunately, after a few drinks Chase managed to relax. Or more than few, but who was counting? They were even talking. House wouldn’t remember, later, what they’d been talking about, but he would remember the sexy way Chase’s accent thickened and the way he slightly slurred everything when he was drunk.

“’m really glad you didn’t die, House,” Chase said suddenly, nearly knocking over his drink. “I mean, don’t care that you tricked us or whatever, I’m just glad you’re shtill alive.” He reached out and grabbed his hand, the movement so sudden House didn’t have time to pull away.

He was also feeling fairly foggy-headed by this point. For some reason Chase’s speech made him want to laugh. Now the blond had honest-to-God tears in his eyes. “I’m just so glad you don’t – die.”

“I told you all not to worry,” he said, and smirked. “You’re drunk, Chase.”

“I’m not is…” Chase’s brow creased in confusion. “Yeah, maybe. But you – you’re drunk as I am, you think…are.”

House snorted. “Was any part of that English just now?”

“You are drunk…drunk…Did I ever tell you about Australia?”

“Britain’s boring. I don’t want to hear about your blood sausages and eel pies.”

“’m /not British/, House. Australia. AUS-TRA-L-IA. You know, with like…wombats ‘n stuff.”

“You are so drunk, wombat — Chase.”

“God, you did not jus call me wombat.”

“No, no definitely not – what was your name again? Richard?”

“Robert.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s Richard.”

“House, I don’t think I can drink anymore—”

“Sh—shut up, I am so buying us another round — you just work on remembering what your name is.”

Then Chase laughed and House was glad he had chosen to do this instead of pizza with Wilson. Glad in a fuzzy, giddy sort of not-entirely-there way, but glad.

They stayed there until the bar closed, and when they left it was hard because Chase couldn’t really walk in a straight line and he was laughing so hard he actually wept. And at some point, House pushed him off the sidewalk, pinning him against the cold brick wall of the nearest building and licked the tears off his face. They were salty and Chase’s skin was warm. His hair was soft and thick as House buried his hands in it. His mouth tasted like alcohol, but there was a sweetness there, too and House couldn’t get enough of him. He pillaged Chase’s mouth with his tongue, holding the younger man firmly in place, enjoying the feel of Chase’s hands running up his chest.




House sat on the edge of the bed. They’d gotten up and dressed. He heard the sink in the bathroom running where Chase was washing up. He’d taken his vicodin but the pain in his leg was still immense – a red, throbbing hurt. He ran his fingers over his cane distractedly. He remembered the first part of the previous night. Finding the ducklings at the bar, frightening Cameron and Foreman away, Chase laughing at something he said. He shook his head. Had he really pinned Chase to the wall and sucked his mouth like that? Had he dragged him into his apartment, pinning him to the bed with his cane while proceeded to lick and bite at every bit of exposed flesh he could find?

It seemed unreal, like something he’d seen in a movie, not something he’d actually done. And he still didn’t remember all of it. There were great gaping holes in his memory. Holes he rather wouldn’t have. He balanced the cane out in front of him, thinking, and when the faucet in the bathroom switched off he climbed to his feet, intercepting Chase before the Australian could run like a frightened wombat. Which seemed very likely at the moment.

“House —”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like my brains got mashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick. Why?”

“Do I detect the faintest trace of annoyance in your voice, Doctor Robert Chase? It can’t be that you’re growing a backbone – I think I would have noticed it last night.”

“Sod off.”

“Oh don’t go all British on me.”

“Australian,” Chase gritted out through clenched teeth. “And whatever happened last night—”

“Is going to happen again.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” House nodded, grabbing Chase’s arm and steering him back in the direction of the bedroom. “Right now.”

“What?”

“Come on, you already put out once.”

“Wh—mph!”

House cut him off with a blistering kiss, shoving him rather unceremoniously back onto the bed. He climbed on top of him, straddling his waist and holding him against the mattress. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you forget all about Cameron,” he smirked. “Promise.”

But Chase didn’t seem to need any more encouraging at this point; his hands snuck under House’s jacket, pulling at his shirt. He felt Chase’s tongue run along his jaw and teeth grazed his lower lip. He leaned back, yanking off Chase’s shirt while the blond doctor’s hands tore off his clothing with equal enthusiasm.

“Oh, so it turns out little Chase isn’t as innocent as we all thought—”

“House, could you shut up for five minutes, please?” Chase growled, grinding their bodies together.

He grabbed his cock. “Oh, I like it when you beg.”

Groaning, Chase bit his shoulder, raking his nails down House’s spine. “What makes you think I’m going to be the one who is begging?” his voice took on a sultry tone. It was appealing.

House laughed low in his throat, pushing Chase down against the mattress. “Cheeky wombat. Maybe you need a spanking.”

Chase wriggled beneath him, biting his bottom lip. “Maybe I do.”

“You…” House smacked him hard, heard the sharp intake of breath and Chase groaned, writhing beneath him. He hit him again. And again. The sight of his reddening skin made House’s erection throb. He growled, climbed over Chase.

Chase twisted beneath him, covering his mouth. The kiss was deep and sweet. He tried to pull away at first – kissing seemed too intimate for whatever they were doing – but Chase wasn’t having that. He grabbed House’s shoulder, dragging him down on top of him.

“Ugh. Strong little thing, aren’t you?” House said when Chase finally released him. “For a wombat, I mean—”

“Next time we do this I’m getting you a gag.”

“What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

Chase was slipping down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He paused and looked up at House and gave him a look. Exactly the sort of look a tiger gives an antelope before it kills it. It was incredibly sexy.

House grabbed him roughly and positioned him beneath him. There was lube in the night stand. He slid one finger into him and Chase shivered and pressed into his touch. House laughed low in his throat, stretching him.

“Your leg--?” Chase gasped.

“Shut up, I’m not thinking about that now,” he growled. The leg hurt. Like hell. But he wanted this more. His entire body was throbbing with the need of it. A moment later he slid into Chase.

Chase cried out softly, rocking back against him, pushing him farther.

“You like that, huh?” he groaned, tugging at the sweat-slicked blond hair. Then he reached his hand around Chase, grabbing his cock. His other hand still clutched Chase’s thigh, even his good leg was hurting with the strain of supporting his weight. Chase made a noise when he stroked him that almost made him come and he ignored the pain and pushed into him again.

They both came and he collapsed beside Chase.

The bliss of orgasm only dulled the pain for a matter of moments. He sucked in his breath, reaching out to touch Chase. He didn’t know why, but Chase was lying there sweaty and debauched and he wanted to keep touching him. He ran his fingers over the smooth wet skin. Chase turned his head and looked at him with a quiet, unreadable expression.

“Your leg hurt?”

“Leg always hurts.”

“Sorry.”

House snorted. He felt a smile forming on the corners of his lips. “So come over here and kiss me, then.”






END.